


That Bit of Electricity

by wolfiefics



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Artist Bucky, Captain America Secret Santa 2019, Captain America Statue, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Fluff, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Soulmate AU, didn't happen, mush, tried to write smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfiefics/pseuds/wolfiefics
Summary: Steve never thought his soulmate was alive, let alone a sculptor in Brooklyn. But there he is at the unveiling of the Captain America statue in Prospect Park and a handshake confirms that his soulmate is everything he'd ever hoped for.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 28
Kudos: 355
Collections: Stucky Secret Santa 2019





	That Bit of Electricity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betheflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betheflame/gifts).



> Happy Holidays to my dear BeTheFlame. May the season be merry and bright. Forgive my bit of fluff but may it give you the warm fuzzies.
> 
> Many thanks to Empress on Discord for being my beta reader. Any mistakes are mine, you can't have them. ;)

Steve Rogers cut off the engine of his motorcycle and heaved a put-upon sigh. He didn’t want to be here. It was humiliating and not at all like him. Prospect Park in Brooklyn, New York, had commissioned a statue of him to be placed in the park. He was here for the grand reveal of the statue. 

He was uncomfortable with the thought of being memorialized in a statue. He wasn’t dead, so what was the point of a statue of him? People could see him on the news, fighting the latest alien invasion or superpowered bad guy. Why did they need a statue in a park? 

Steve swung his leg from the motorcycle and stood up straight, looking around. He’d been reserved a parking spot, a big sign that said “Reserved”, and had been directed over the phone by the sponsor of the statue to use it for his convenience of being the guest of honor.

Steve had opted not to spruce up for the occasion but dressed neatly in a pair of dark blue jeans, a blue Henley, and nice shoes. When he’d reviewed the outfit with Natasha Romanov, she’d approved the casual attire. 

“You want to seem approachable to the public,” she’d told him over Skype. She was on a mission in South Africa or South America, Steve forgot which. “Dressing casual makes you seem down-to-earth and one of the regular public.”

“I am approachable and down-to-earth,” Steve had protested.

“I know that, you know that, hell, Nick Fury knows that, but the public still has this idea of the Great Hero in their heads, you in uniform defeating aliens on a New York street,” explained Nat with a hint of impatience to her voice. “I know you think this statue is dumb and it’s embarrassing for you, but it’s good PR. It knocks Captain America off the pedestal if you show up looking like one of the guys, instead of this shining example of the Greatest Generation.”

Steve now sighed again and began to walk into the park. He could see in the distance a small stage set up, a tarp covered object to the left of the stage. No doubt that was the statue.

Steve straightened his shoulders. ‘Nat’s right,’ he told himself sternly. ‘You need people to see you as Steve Rogers instead of just Captain America.’

Since waking up in the 21st Century Steve felt disconnected. Oh, he had a family in his fellow Avengers and a couple friends within S.H.I.E.L.D. but he didn’t feel part of this new time he now lived in. He didn’t long for ‘the good old days’, as Tony Stark often accused Steve of doing, but he did long for the sense of community that America had during the Great Depression and the second World War. He didn’t feel any of that sense of belonging here and now.

Most of all, he longed for his soulmate.

All the years growing up and even during the War, meeting new people held a certain amount of excitement. Would this person be his soulmate, platonic or romantic? For a while, he’d thought it might be Peggy Carter. There was zing between them reminiscent of what people said they experienced when meeting their soulmate. An electricity that sparked between soulmates, the linking of the minds and souls when you touched your soulmate.

Steve and Peggy had been thick as thieves during the War, true, but there had been no melding of the minds or souls between them, even though sometimes they finished each other’s sentences and thought on the same wavelength. It wasn’t the same, though, as meeting your soulmate. Steve had harbored a feeling that perhaps Peggy was his soulmate and he was just expecting more from the bond than existed.

As Steve walked toward the stage, he pulled his mind from Peggy Carter and the past. It did him no good longing for the good old days, such as they were. He was in the future and needed to remember that he’d been put here for a reason, though Steve had yet to figure out what that was. Well, besides fighting aliens.

He’d gone out on dates, mostly blind and set up by Nat, in the 21st Century and found most of his dates stunned by the fact that they were on a date with Captain America. He’d been stumbling through “sorry, Captain” and “I hope that didn’t offend you, Cap” situations for months. He was tired of it. He’d all but given up on meeting his soulmate. Whoever he or she was, they were either in a nursing home, infirm and senile, or dead. He had no soulmate, displaced from time like he was.

It was a wholly depressing thought and Steve was tired of confronting it. He shoved the thought from his head as a jolly, portly man approached him near the stage with an outstretched hand.

“Captain Rogers!” the portly man said, clearly beside himself with excitement. “We’re so glad you agreed to join us today!”

Steve gave a tight smile. “My pleasure. It’s an honor that Brooklyn is giving me. It would be churlish to not show up.”

The man blinked his watery blue eyes once and beamed at Steve as if Steve had just said something terribly clever. “Quite,” the man said. “I’m Deputy Mayor Dominico Caravelli. This statue was my pet project, you see,” the deputy mayor babbled nervously. “I’ve long been an admirer of yours, a Brooklyn boy doing the city proud.”

Steve ducked his head to hide his blush at the deputy mayor’s words. “I was just doing my duty, sir, like so many other Americans did and do everyday.”

Caravelli clapped a friendly hand on Steve’s shoulder, having to reach up to do so as Steve was over a head taller than the deputy mayor. “Not many would volunteer for risky government experiments, though, Captain,” protested Caravelli. “But enough of that, I can see it makes you uncomfortable and there will praise enough of you in a little while.”

Steve felt a rock sink in his stomach. ‘Great’, he thought sourly to himself. He already knew what ‘great deeds’ he did to deserve praise. Did he have to listen to some local government official wax poetic about them the whole afternoon?

“You’re one of the last to arrive,” Caravelli blustered. “But you’re still on time. Let me introduce you around.” With that Steve dutifully followed Caravelli around, being introduced to various city officials involved in the planning and coordination of the statue’s commissioning. 

Steve shook hands, smiled as sincerely as he could muster, and tried to nonchalantly accept compliments. He couldn’t help but noticed there was no tingle of recognition between himself and the younger members of the people Caravelli introduced Steve to.

“And this is James Barnes, our artist,” Carvelli bustled Steve over to a very handsome man standing awkwardly off to the side. Dressed in an impeccable suit, James Barnes seemed out of place, with his Hollywood looks, grey eyes and muscular build. “He did both the sculpture and the bronze work. He’s a talented up and comer in Brooklyn’s art scene. We were pleased with his proposal and offered him the commission on the spot.”

Steve stuck out a hand for an obligatory shake and Barnes gave Steve a tight smile as he reached to shake Steve’s hand. The moment they touched, fire raced up Steve’s arm and lit up his brain like a Christmas tree. So that’s what meeting your soulmate felt like, Steve realized in a daze.

Caravelli was babbling on about Barnes’ talent, oblivious to the event taking place right before his officious nose. Steve was sure his eyes were widened and dilated like James’. The power between them was so intense, Steve almost felt nauseas, the butterflies in his stomach doing the Charleston at high speed. More than anything, Steve wanted Caravelli to go away, or at least shut up, so he could talk to James alone.

“Hi,” James said breathlessly. “Call me Bucky.”

“I’m Steve,” Steve murmured back. His soulmate was an artist, the one in charge of this embarrassing public spectacle, but Steve didn’t care. Here, in the 21st Century, he’d found his soulmate. They weren’t infirm in a nursing home or six feet underground, but looking absolutely stunning in a suit and tie, the Captain America shield as a pin on the lapel.

Belatedly Steve realized they were just clasping hands and not shaking. Very reluctantly, he let go of Bucky’s hand. He wanted to sweep Bucky in his arms and kiss him, but had enough self-awareness to know that this wasn’t the right place or time for such a reaction.

Caravelli, still not noticing anything amiss, finished his diatribe with a “Captain, would you care to have a seat next to Mr. Barnes? We’re going to be starting the reveal in a few moments.”

Steve nodded jerkily and with a half-bow motioned Bucky to lead the way to their seats. A very becoming blush turned Bucky’s face a delightful pink as he moved toward the chairs lined up behind a small podium. They sat and for a moment, Steve panicked. What did you say to your soulmate when you first meet?

Bucky took care of the problem. “Okay, when I was commissioned for this statue, I never dreamed you’d be my soulmate.”

Steve gave a little chuckle. “I didn’t think my soulmate was alive anymore,” he confessed. 

Bucky’s fascinating blue-grey eyes widened a bit at Steve’s confession. “I never believed much in soulmates and Fate, to be honest, but I gotta say, I believe in them now.”

Steve couldn’t help but grin. “I believe the correct word in modern vernacular I’m looking for is ‘ditto’.”

Bucky gave a little laugh. “I think we’re gonna have to have dinner after this is over, don’t you?”

Steve smiled shyly. “As long as we can find someplace private for me to kiss you, I don’t care what we do after this is over.”

His tone must have shown a bit of his exasperation with the event because Bucky’s brow furrowed. “You don’t want to be here?” The artist waved his hand vaguely around them. “You aren’t flattered by this?”

“Bucky,” Steve said earnestly. “I’m a soldier. I don’t do what I do for the recognition. I do it because it’s the right thing to do.”

“I know, but-“ Bucky began to protest and then paused a moment. “You’re Captain America. You fought the Red Skull. You and an elite team of hand-picked men took on Hydra and Nazis during one of the most brutal wars this world has ever seen. You survived seventy years in the Arctic only to fight aliens in the future.”

Steve frowned. “I’m just Steve Rogers, Bucky. I underwent a risky government experiment that had more chance of killing me than turning me into a superhero. That’s the only thing special about me.” Unbidden the words Tony spoke in anger came to Steve’s head: The only special about you came out of a bottle. He pushed the words away. He knew Tony didn’t really mean them and would be angry with Steve for even thinking they might be true.

“You are special,” Bucky said heatedly but was interrupted by Deputy Mayor Caravelli starting the ceremony.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the deputy mayor said to the small assembled crowd seated in folding chairs before the small temporary stage. “Welcome. We are pleased to showcase the Community Enrichment Committee’s formal recognition of our own hometown hero, Captain Steve Rogers, known to the world as Captain America. Born July 4, 1918 to Sarah and Joseph Rogers of Brooklyn, New York, Captain Rogers was a community staple in Brooklyn, an artist and every man, chosen by the United States government for a special scientific experiment called Project Rebirth at the start of America’s involvement in World War II. Leading an elite team of soldiers through the European theater fighting both the Nazi regime and the off-shoot called Hydra, Captain Rogers has done Brooklyn proud both past and present.”

Steve listened to the deputy mayor extoll Steve’s virtues with some discomfort.

“Following his heroic crash of the Hydra plane called the Valkyrie in the Arctic, Captain Rogers was found and rescued by S.H.I.E.L.D. and revived four years ago, immediately cementing his status as a hero America and Brooklyn can be proud of by leading the Avengers against the villain Loki and his alien army. Now, he works with the Avengers protecting the Earth from the forces of evil, as well as training soldiers and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in martial arts and strategy.”

Steve stared straight ahead. The Deputy Mayor made him sound like he was, as Clint would say, all that and a bag of chips, but he wasn’t. He was just a guy doing his job.

Caravelli turned to Steve and motioned him to stand up and come forward. ‘Here it comes’, Steve thought miserably. “Captain Rogers, we the citizens of Brooklyn are proud to call you our own and to honor your sacrifices and courage, we present to the city the statue ‘Captain America’.”

Steve stood and stepped toward the covered statue. He’d been instructed to tug the rope the canvas covering was attached to. With a mighty jerk, he pulled the statue free of its canvas covering. Gasps from the crowd accompanied his motion.

It wasn’t bad, Steve decided. The bronze gleamed brightly in the spring sunlight. His bronze doppelganger stood on a plinth with a plaque that read “Home Town Pride, Captain America, Est. 1941, Celebrating 75 Heroic Years”. A series of stars lined around the lettering. The statue Captain America stood with legs braced apart, the shield held aloft, looking very heroic. 

Steve had seen pictures of himself, so he knew the pose was fairly accurate. It was a stance he often adopted when in battle. Obviously his newly found soulmate had studied photographs and video footage of Steve in depth for his work of art.

While the audience took in the statue, Caravelli motioned for Steve to step up to the microphone to say a few words. With an internal sigh and conscious of the crowd’s regard for him, Steve did so.

“Thank you, Deputy Mayor Caravelli, artist James Barnes and my fellow citizens of Brooklyn for this honor. All I can say is what I said to the Red Skull in the midst of the final battle with him. I’m nobody, just a kid from Brooklyn. That’s all I’ve ever been and all I’ll ever be.”

The audience clapped enthusiastically and Steve ducked his head. Bucky walked over to him and gripped Steve’s hand briefly, causing electricity to once more race up Steve’s arm and cause his brain to flame alive. He gripped back before releasing. He felt self-conscious enough without the world guessing he’d found his soulmate today on top of it.

There was more meeting and greeting audience members, signing of autographs, and admiring the detail Bucky put into the statue. Despite the disconcertedness of being made into a statue, Steve had to admit it was a flattering piece of art. The detail was dead on in regards to Steve’s Captain America suit, down to the buckles. The shield was detailed with star and stripes. It was tasteful, Steve admitted, and not overblown or exaggerated in his form and figure. True to life.

“I hope you’re not offended,” Bucky finally told him as the crowd started to thin and the afternoon began to wane.

“Not at all. I mean, I’m uncomfortable having such a fuss made over me when I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve it,” Steve admitted, “but the statue itself is a masterpiece, Bucky. The detail is good and it’s flattering but not over the top.”

Bucky shifted his weight a bit, foot to foot. “So, shall we leave? Dinner?”

Steve’s lips lifted into a smile. “One thing you’re going to learn about me is that I’m always down for food. Enhanced metabolism means I’m always hungry.”

Bucky laughed. Together they walked to the parking area of the park, limited in space though that was. Their hands brushed, purposefully casually, allowing little sparks to tease Steve’s senses. He could smell Bucky’s cologne, a masculine clean scent that wasn’t overpowering. Bucky moved with an easy grace, at ease in his body and suit.

“Anyplace particular in mind,” asked Steve as they approached his parked motorcycle.

Bucky stopped and turned to Steve, glancing around. Seeing that they were alone, Bucky reached up and pulled Steve’s head down into a kiss.

Steve was fairly certain the kiss was scorching enough to melt the elastic in his underwear.

Bucky not only looked good but he tasted fantastic. There was a hint of a hickory coffee and something sweet, like chocolate. Steve couldn’t get enough. Their tongues mated and danced, teasing each other in the hot, open-mouthed kiss.

When they both pulled away at the same time, Steve was panting, as was Bucky. “Wow.”

Steve laughed happily. “I agree completely. Wow definitely covers it. Did you drive?”

Bucky blinked at him stupidly a moment and then grinned. “I live four blocks from here. I walked.”

“Then I know just the place for dinner. You’re a little overdressed but that’s okay. I think it’s time we got to know one another and figure out how we’re going to fit in each other’s lives,” Steve told him.

Bucky started walking back toward the motorcycle, it’s blue paint gleaming in the late afternoon sun. “I hope you have an extra helmet.”

“Wear mine and I’ll be sure to have two available from now on,” Steve told him.

Steve unlocked the bike and handed Bucky the helmet, which the other man promptly plopped on his head and fasted the chin strap. Steve swung his right leg over the bike seat and settled himself, with Bucky following suit a short time after.

Steve rolled the bike backward a bit, started up the engine and thrilled as Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist as Steve began to drive away from the park.

Bucky’s arms beneath the suit were very muscular. It made sense, being a sculptor. The feel of Bucky’s arms around his waist, though, was making Steve very uncomfortable in his pants. With Bucky’s crotch up against Steve’s ass, the ride to the small 1940s style diner and soda shop seemed both too short and interminable. It was definitely erotic.

Steve parked the bike down the street from the diner and they both hopped off the Harley.

“My first ride on a motorcycle,” Bucky told him with a jaunty grin. “10/10, would do it again.”

“That’s good, because to hell with letting you take a cab or Uber home,” Steve told him with an answering, happy smile.

Bucky laughed, linked their hands together and they headed for the diner half a block from where Steve parked. 

As they slid into a booth, Steve told Bucky, “This place does specialty milkshakes. The best in the city, I guarantee it.”

Bucky looked around with interest and then grabbed two menus that were ensconced between the salt and pepper shakers and the napkin dispenser. “Ooo, they have a menu just for the shake flavors!” Bucky said with enthusiasm.

They chatted over different menu options, Bucky deciding on cheese fries and a hamburger with all the works, with a mint chocolate chip milkshake. Steve went with the grilled ham and cheese, chili cheese fries and a strawberry shake.

Settling back in his vinyl leatherette bench seat, Steve motioned to Bucky. “Tell me about you. You probably know all about me, having studied me so much for the commission.”

Bucky grinned and, placing his folded arms on the table, leaned forward. “I read every biography I could find, including the bad ones and the children’s books.”

Steve fought and lost to a blush at the heated look Bucky was giving him.

“I’m a Brooklyn boy, too, born and bred. I went to college at Brooklyn College for my bachelor’s in art and art history. I’m working on my master’s in Art History part time at NYU. I teach art at a local high school and do commission work when I can find it.” Bucky gave Steve a smirk as their milkshakes were delivered by a bored waitress. “I have three sisters, all younger, who will probably squee like schoolgirls when they meet you. My parents are both alive and still married to each other. My father worked as mailman until he retired and my mom still works as a personal assistant for a prestigious Brooklyn law firm.”

Steve listened, paying attention but still distracted by the way Bucky would occasionally suck his lower lip into his mouth for a quick suck in between sentences. It was erotic and driving Steve crazy.

“I’m currently working on a commission for an avant-garde installation at a gallery, a la Yoko Ono from the 1960s.”

Steve blinked. “Who?”

It was Bucky’s turn to blink. “Yoko Ono? Married the Beatle John Lennon, who was also an artist and went to art school before quitting to become a world-famous musician and singer/songwriter?”

“She does this avant-garde art?”

“Well,” Bucky looked pensive. “I don’t know that she does art anymore. She’s in her late eighties now. She might still dabble but I don’t think she shows anymore.”

“What kind of things did she do with this avant-garde art style in the 60s?” asked Steve, distracted from Bucky’s mouth by this new potential interesting art style.

“She had a very famous installation where the room was painted all white, ceiling, walls and floor. There was a ladder in the middle of the room with a magnifying glass hanging above it from the ceiling. You climbed the ladder and looked at this word written on the white ceiling through the magnifying glass.”

“And what was the word?” Steve was distracted by Bucky nibbling on his own lower lip nervously.

“The word ‘yes’.”

Steve blinked. “That’s it?”

“Very cutting edge in the Sixties,” Bucky told him. “She and Lennon would sit in protest of the Vietnam War in white bags in public.”

Steve laughed. “Sounds ridiculous.”

“Yeah but so ridiculous it was not normal, got people’s attention, made them ask why and what for? Made people stop to think. It was always positive messages, images or meanings behind what she and Lennon did, both together and separately. People would have walked away and ignored them. It was for personal, selfish or negative things, but it was always positive so it stuck in people’s brains,” Bucky explained.

Steve thought about it. “Makes sense,” he admitted. “People are inclined to look for the negative instead of the positive. To be confronted by the positive all the time is abnormal.”

“Exactly her point.”

“So, what’s your installation inspired by Yoko Ono going to be?” asked Bucky.

“A pale yellow room with the word ‘sunlight’ written in big letters across one wall,” confessed Bucky. “It’s kind of dumb, to be honest, but the gallery owner’s all excited about it. I plan on having some of my students help me with it, choosing the right font and color of yellow. Not too bright but still enough to inspire people to think of sunlight.”

“So, like a group student project?” asked Steve.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ve had a couple students interested in helping me with it. I mean the idea is mine but I can’t paint a whole room by myself in one weekend without a lot of late nights.”

“What color will the word ‘sunlight’ be in?” asked Steve, sticking a spoon into his thick milkshake and scooping up some sweet goodness.

“I haven’t decided yet, but I’m thinking blue like the sky,” confessed Bucky.

Steve nodded. “I mostly dabble in sketches and line drawings. I haven’t painted since I woke up in this century. I used to paint at art classes all the time. I did a lot of paintings and illustrations for the Work Projects Administration. That was how I paid rent.”

“You still draw then?” asked Bucky, trying to suck the thick shake up through the straw, his cheeks caving in with the force of his attempt. Steve found the look adorable despite the futile attempt Bucky was making.

“Yeah. I draw memories, my teammates and landscapes mainly.” Steve leaned forward conspiratorially. “What I’d really like to illustrate is locally brewed beer bottles.”

Bucky barked a laugh. “What?”

“All these local crafted beers everyone sells now. They have such creative and interesting labels. I’d love to have that job.”

Bucky continued laughing. “You surprise me, Steve,” he chortled. “I never would picture that, but now that you’ve put it into my head, I can totally see you doing that.”

Steve shrugged. “The art style is not too far off what I did for the WPA’s propaganda posters, well at least some of them anyway. I don’t really need the money, I just think they’d be fun to do.”

Bucky grinned maniacally. “Let me do some digging around, see what I can find about getting one of the local breweries to commission you for a piece.”

Steve felt a surge of happiness at the idea. “I think I like having a soulmate with artistic connections.”

Bucky smirked and gave up on the straw, dipping his spoon into his ice cream concoction. Steve watched as Bucky stuck a spoonful of green ice cream into his mouth. A drip of melted ice cream marred Bucky’s perfect mouth and Steve longed to lick the minty goodness away.

“You said something about thinking your soulmate was dead,” Bucky turned the subject away from art to their being soulmates. “Why’d you think that?”

“Well, I mean I was born in 1918. It stood to reason that my soulmate was from my time.”

Bucky tipped his head to one side, his longish hair that had pulled free from the bun on the back of his head brushing his cheek seductively. “You’re from this time now, though. It never occurred to you that you’re right where you belong?”

Steve glanced down at the table, disconcerted. “I don’t really feel like I belong sometimes,” he confessed. Then he looked up, wanting Bucky to understand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I’m not dead or in still in suspended animation or whatever but I don’t feel connected to now. I have friends in the Avengers and a couple in S.H.I.E.L.D. but all anyone ever sees is the uniform and the shield. They don’t see me, the kid from Brooklyn who had asthma and nervous system disorders and a heart condition most of his life.”

Steve took a deep breath and willed his soulmate to understand the disconnect that Steve felt with the here and now. “Everyone expects me to act a certain way, to be a certain way that’s contrary to what I really am. When I act like myself I get offended looks and lectures about ‘being a proper role model for America’. I don’t get to just be the twenty-something I am. I can’t have one-night stands or relationships that aren’t approved of by everyone who thinks they have a stake in my public personae.”

Bucky frowned but said nothing, just nodding encouragingly for Steve to continue.

“I’m frankly terrified of registering us with the Soulmates office. Word’s going to get out. You will be potentially put in danger by being my soulmate, whether we’re platonic or romantic. S.H.I.E.L.D. will expect that they’ll have a say in your, our, life just because I’m Captain America. If we have a romantic relationship, all the conservatives who claim me as their representative and mascot will go ballistic all over national television.”

“Wait.” Bucky held up a hand to stop Steve’s flow of speech. “Do you know what you want from us, platonic or romantic?”

Steve couldn’t stop himself from blushing fiery red. “You turn me on like a house afire,” he confessed. “I think that kiss in the park pretty much answers that question, shouldn’t it?” he added, pleased that now Bucky blushed red.

“I suppose,” Bucky conceded, looking straight into Steve’s eyes. “I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Yeah, you kissed me back, but that might have been an aberration.”

“An aberration for me, yes, but I kissed you back because I most definitely wanted to,” Steve told his soulmate frankly.

Bucky gave a nod and looked away a moment. “Good. I feel the same way.”

Steve couldn’t stop, and didn’t want to stop, the bright sunshine feeling burning in his heart at Bucky’s words.

“As for the rest, let me worry about S.H.I.E.L.D. trying to interfere in my life. I got no problem telling them where they can shove their officious attitudes.” Bucky sat back as the waitress set his food in front of him. “Thank you,” he told her and she smiled him. Steve felt a moment of jealousy at that smile. After she set Steve’s food down she moved away to check on other customers. “As for the rest, I expect nothing from you except what you can give. I had no notion that we were soulmates until we shook hands. It was like fire lit up my nerve endings. I’d never felt that way but it’s exactly how my parents describe their first meeting.”

“And how my ma described meeting my father,” interjected Steve reassuringly.

Bucky flashed him a smile before continuing. “I have no knowledge whatsoever of self-defense so I expect I’ll have to find out. I can guess with your Avenger friends I won’t get a free pass in not being able to defend myself, the Black Widow especially. I might not be able to take on international terrorists but I can at least learn to foil a kidnapping attempt.”

Steve took a deep breath and nodded, tamping down the panic at the idea of Bucky fighting for his life from any of the enemies Steve had accumulated in this century. “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be getting self-defense training from me at the very least. You’ll be lucky Tony Stark won’t hire you a bodyguard.”

Bucky looked taken aback by the thought. “Would he?” Bucky asked curiously.

Steve laughed. “Tony doesn’t have many friends and he’s very protective of any friends he does have, though he seems irreverent about us. Once he realizes what you mean to me, it’ll be all I can do to talk him into not assigning you a full security detail like he has for Pepper Potts.”

Bucky seemed to muse that over. “Might be disconcerting for my students and gallery owners to see me trailed by a security detail in black body armor and rifles.” Then Bucky shrugged as if dismissing the image it brought to his mind. “As for you being Captain America, sure, I was a bit star struck when we first met. I mean, I probably would have been even if we weren’t soulmates. I’d just spent six months immersed in everything Captain America sculpting and making the bronze for the statue. I went through three molds before I got something I was happy with. The more time I spend with you now, though, I can see that Captain America is a suit you put on, a persona you wrap yourself to fulfill the world’s idea of who Captain America should be, not who Steve Rogers really is.”

“So, the rose-colored glasses are fading away?” asked Steve archly, hiking an eyebrow in inquiry before popping a chili cheese covered fry in his mouth.

“Oh, they’ve been faded to nothing but a regular sunglass tint since your little speech at the park. You really are just a kid from Brooklyn. I get that. And that’s how I’m going to treat you because that’s what you want, who you are.”

Steve felt immense relief at Bucky’s words. They shared a secret smile and ate their meal in companionable silence. There was a brief argument over who would pay the tab, that Steve won, before they exited the diner.

Bucky hesitated. “Do you want to come over to my place? I have to confess I don’t want to part from you anytime soon.”

Steve pulled Bucky to him and Bucky’s arms wrapped around Steve in a tight hug. “I’d like that. I feel closer to you after just a couple hours than I’ve felt with anyone else in this century after all this time.”

Steve led the way to the motorcycle with an arm draped across Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky plucked the helmet off its hook on the motorcycle while Steve unlocked it.

The ride to Bucky’s apartment aroused Steve as much as the drive to the diner had. He longed to just hold Bucky. Sex would come eventually but it wasn’t of vital importance. Just being with Bucky was all Steve craved.

Bucky directed Steve to a brownstone converted to apartments and Steve parked in the alley, setting the alarm once they were both off the bike. He followed Bucky through the front door and up one flight of stairs. Bucky unlocked a heavy wood door and gave Steve a self-conscious look over his shoulder.

“It’s not a total mess but I wasn’t expecting company, let alone my soulmate so excuse the breakfast dishes in the sink.”

Steve cupped Bucky’s chin and leaned down for a brief peck. “I don’t care,” he told the other man. Bucky could be a total slob for all Steve cared. He’d live with it. 

The main room was open, the kitchen and dining room melding into the living room. The furniture was comfortable looking and one wall was nothing but electronics like a television, dvd player and what looked like a game console. Steve only recognized it from watching Tony and Clint play each other. A guitar stood in the corner but it was unlike any guitar Steve had ever seen. For one thing it had no strings; the other was it seemed smaller than the average guitar.

The walls were full of artwork and one corner had a potter’s wheel and clay chunks. An easel empty of a canvas was by the window. Steve felt immediately at home in what was obviously an artist’s home. He turned to smile at Bucky and saw the man watching him anxiously.

“I love it, Buck. It really shows your personality,” Steve reassured his soulmate.

Bucky relaxed and smiled tentatively back. “I had no motive in inviting you up here,” he confessed to Steve. “I just didn’t want the day to end. We don’t have to…” He seemed at a loss to continue.

“I’m not ready for sex yet,” Steve told him. “But I wouldn’t be adverse to some cuddling, maybe watching your favorite movies?”

Bucky’s smile rivaled the sun in its blinding brightness. Soon they were curled up and the opening credits to _Singin’ in the Rain_ were rolling. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen Gene Kelly!” Bucky was exclaiming over the chipper music of the credits.

“Everyone always has something vital for me to watch, listen to or read,” Steve told him with some amusement. “Do you realize how long seventy years is in cultural importance? People are still stunned that I haven’t had time to listen to the Beatles yet.”

The look that Buck gave him was aghast. “After this, we’re watching _A Hard Day’s Night_ ,” Bucky declared, reaching for the popcorn bowl balanced in Steve’s lap. He crunched on popcorn. “Do you have a list?”

Steve obligingly pulled out of back pocket the little spiral notebook he kept his list of ‘vital things Steve should know about’. He handed it to Bucky and let the other man read over it while concentrating on a rather handsome man going through the motions of being a Hollywood star during the silent film era.

As the movie progressed Steve made comments like, “I remember when _The Jazz Singer_ came out. It was indeed revolutionary. My ma took us to see it twice, it was so amazing,” or “I don’t remember women dressing like that, must be a Hollywood thing.” Each time he commented Bucky would either shush him or pester him with questions.

The movie was delightful and amusing. Gene Kelly was indeed a talented dancer, Steve thought, and he was easy on the eyes as well.

Bucky pulled _Singin' in the Rain_ from his DVD player and put in _A Hard Day’s Night_. “Now this movie is a musical as well, but it was really the precursor to music videos.”

Steve nodded and settled in to hold his soulmate tightly as Bucky sang along with the soundtrack. He had an off-key voice, to Steve’s amusement, but didn’t lack enthusiasm. It was nice to find a flaw, as Steve was beginning to think Bucky Barnes was absolutely perfect in every way.

Bucky began stroking Steve’s thigh as Ringo wandered the town, getting into mischief and attracting the attentions of the local police. The light touch was slowly driving Steve mad. He finally grabbed Bucky’s hand, his arousal causing him some discomfort.

He couldn’t remember the end of the movie, it was just noise as his brain ran through scenario after scenario of him and Bucky in bed. Despite what Tony Stark might think, Steve wasn’t an innocent babe in the woods. He’d been around, both in his original century and the current century he found himself in. Bucky, however, was putting a strain on Steve’s resolve to be a gentleman tonight.

The movie over, Bucky turned to Steve. “What did you think?”

Steve nipped a kiss onto Bucky’s lips. “I think I want to curl up in bed with you and see if you snore.”

Bucky blinked and then his grin turned knowing. “I’ve been told I make these little snuffling noises but no actual snoring.”

“Interesting but I’d rather form my own opinion,” Steve told him, brushing his finger down Bucky’s nose and then dragging down his lips.

Bucky stood up and held a hand out to Steve. “Shall we find out then?” he asked simply.

Steve nodded, took Bucky’s proffered hand and stood as well. He followed Bucky to the bedroom. Bucky hesitated. “No sex?”

“Not tonight,” Steve told him. “I’m still on my best behavior. We’ll save my naughty nature for another night.”

Bucky laughed, led him through the bedroom door and shut the door behind them.

Bucky did indeed make these little snuffling sounds in his sleep. It was adorable.

~fin~

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] That Bit of Electricity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26254414) by [attolia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/attolia/pseuds/attolia)




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